


Truck Beds and Hand Pies

by messofthejess



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Bad Flirting, Baked Goods, Cuddling & Snuggling, Flirting, Fourth of July, M/M, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 10:05:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11415624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/messofthejess/pseuds/messofthejess
Summary: In which Jack comes down to Madison, Georgia to spend the Fourth of July with Bitty. Cuddles and hand pies ensue.





	Truck Beds and Hand Pies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katyfaise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katyfaise/gifts).



> Based on this particular page of OMGCP: http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com/post/142644954797
> 
> You can probably guess which panel ;D
> 
> This fic was originally posted on my Tumblr here: http://messofthejess.tumblr.com/post/162619013628/truck-beds-and-hand-pies

“ _How_ many wicker baskets do you own again?”  
  


“Fourteen,” Bitty replied, flipping the lid open on the basket to check on its contents for the umpteenth time. “My great-aunt is something of a wicker fanatic. Weaves ‘em all by hand. Everyone ought to have a basket for every occasion, according to her.”

“Amazing.” Jack leaned across the cab of the truck to peek inside the basket, but Bitty threw the checked cloth over the opening. 

“No peeking, mister!”

“It smells delicious, either way.”

“Of course it does.” Bitty pulled the keys out of the ignition and shot Jack a mischievous look. “Now get back in the truck bed, silly, we’re gonna miss the fireworks.” 

Jack flashed him a smile in the dark before pushing open the door and jumping out into the long dewy grass. Bitty followed suit, but not before checking himself in the rear view mirror. His chop was growing out, had been since before the end of spring semester, but he just didn’t feel right letting anyone but Lardo cut his hair. Did Jack like him with more curls or less? Did the blue flannel shirt he put on bring out his eyes enough? Heaven forbid, was the shirt tight enough to show the little bit of off-season fluff he’d added on?

Bitty shook his head. He’d never been self-conscious like this before. And it wasn’t like Jack would point these things out to be malicious. He was sweet, and kind, and so very deserving of the snacks Bitty had most definitely not spent a week agonizing over the recipe a week before Jack’s plane touched down in Atlanta. Enough worrying. Bitty grabbed the basket, popped the lock open on his door, and slipped out of the truck.

“Took you long enough,” Jack said as Bitty came around to the tailgate. God, it was  _unfair_  for Jack to look so casually handsome, stretched out in the truck bed and leaning against the bump of the wheel well. “Were you adding some last-minute toppings?”

Bitty put his free hand on his hip. “Now how would I do that?”

“I don’t know. Sugar shaker in your back pocket?”

“Jack Laurent Zimmerman, are you implying I have a sweet ass?”

Both of them stared at each other for a long moment before Bitty pressed a fist to his mouth, snickering. Pink blush crept its way up Jack’s neck and onto his ears. Eventually Bitty couldn’t contain his laughter anymore, which was Jack’s cue to stifle his own giggles.

“Oh, God, that was awful, I’m so sorry,” Bitty finally managed to get out as he climbed into the truck bed.

“It’s fine, Bits,” Jack replied, pulling him in closer to his chest with one arm and kissing the top of his head. “That  _was_  the implication, by the way,” he murmured into Bitty’s hair.

Bitty couldn’t contain his squeals as he hid his face in Jack’s shirt. Doubly unfair–he also had a flannel shirt on, and he smelled amazing, like pine trees and the ever-present musk a hockey player could never quite wash away. Forget the fireworks they were supposed to be watching. He already had some exploding in his chest just by being close to Jack.

 _Don’t start replaying the kiss again, Bittle_ , he thought to himself much too late.  _Don’t act like that’s the only thing you’ve been thinking about for the last month and a half—_

“Hey, what are you doing?” 

Apparently Jack putting an arm around him was just a ruse for Jack to reach into the basket and rummage inside. Bitty twisted around in time to see Jack pull out one of the sweet golden brown pastries he’d gotten up at 6:00 this morning to make. 

“What is this?” Jack asked as he passed the pastry in front of Bitty’s nose to his other hand.

“Hand pie. I thought about making a traditional lattice pie, but then my mind kept thinking of all the possible scenarios where I could possibly trip and drop the damn thing–”

“You’re one of the most graceful people I know, Bits. Tripping is like physically impossible for you.” 

“ _Jaaaaaack_.” 

“‘S true.” Jack leaned forward and took a bite out of the hand pie. “Mmm–’s crunchy.” He swallowed. “I don’t think you ever made anything like this back at the Haus.”

“It’s maple pecan!” Bitty exclaimed. “I spent forever trying to come up with something that had peaches, but the filling kept coming out runny no matter what I tried. That and Publix wants an arm and an leg for peaches right now for God knows what reason. Anyway, I came up with this, because we grow pecans here in Georgia and, well…” Bitty looked up at Jack, who was looking down at him with those intense blue eyes that made him lose his train of coherent thought. “…maple syrup and…Canada?”

“So…you made something that combines the two of us into something delicious?”

“Oh Lord, don’t say it like that, it sounds even more sappy than it already is. Oh, no.  _Sappy._  I made another pun,” Bitty dove into Jack’s shirt again. “I’m just gonna stop talking forev–”

“Bits.”

Bitty looked up again in time for Jack to swoop down and catch his lips in a kiss, and oh, this was  _definitely_  the only thing Bitty had been thinking about for the past month and a half. Kissing Jack made up at least half of his dreams, and sometimes he’d wake up in the middle of the night to touch his own lips because he wasn’t quite sure if it’d been real or not. They were each other’s good morning and good night, the reason he could be found clutching his phone in the middle of a flour-dusted kitchen grinning like a fool. So far Bitty had been able to keep it toned down for his parents–Jack was simply his best friend as far as they knew–but behind closed doors he could let himself get excited. And even though Jack had been here for the past three days, somehow this, this maple-syrupy kissing, made him feel like he was actually  _here_  with Bitty. The graduation day kiss hadn’t been some fluke. It was real, and they had feelings for each other, and even though they hadn’t called each other the b-word yet, Bitty was really, really hoping they’d get there soon.

But for now, sticky kisses. Somewhere along the line while Bitty was distracted, Jack had tugged him into his lap and wrapped his arm around Bitty’s back. Bitty finally snapped back to the present moment and shifted so he was straddling Jack’s lap and, more importantly, even closer to him. The two leaned in toward each other for another kiss, their lips brushing and Bitty’s fingers winding into Jack’s thick, dark hair. There were no sounds for a long while other than their soft breathing and fireworks popping in the distance, along with the mercifully muted undercurrent of cicadas humming. After a long while, they pulled apart, foreheads touching.

“Eric,” Bitty breathed out.

Jack blinked, confused. “What?”

“Eric. That’s, uh, my first name? I know there’s like this weird unspoken rule about how you’re only s’posed to learn a hockey player’s name when you’re at their gravestone or something–”

“That’s some bullshit Ransom and Holster made up. You know that, right?”

“I do now.”

“Seriously, we know each other’s first names. Except Shitty. He genuinely will take that secret to his grave.” 

“Jack, I was trying to be romantic by sharing something personal!”

“Oh.” The color rose back to Jack’s face, and Bitty responded by swiftly pecking each cheek, beaming. 

“It’s okay, honey, I’m teasing. We can go back to kissing if you want. Or you can finish eating your pie. I mean, it’s cold now, but it’s still delicious.” 

“ _Peut-on partager_?” Jack took another bite of the hand pie and held it between the two of them. It took a few moments for Bitty to resuscitate his French lessons from high school and piece together what Jack had said, but then he leaned in to take his own bite of the hand pie with a coy look in his eyes.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he replied, licking the crumbs from his fingers.

They went on like that for a bit, swapping bites and sharing soft looks with one another. Eventually, Bitty settled down onto Jack’s chest again, with Jack ruffling his hand through Bitty’s hair ( _He likes my curls!_ Bitty yelled internally). The fireworks were sure to start any second now, weren’t they? It’d been dark for a solid hour–

**_BANG!_ **

“Oh, my stars and garters!” Bitty jumped as a massive silver dandelion bloomed overhead in the sky. 

“Really? Stars and garters? Sure you didn’t want to go for stars and stripes?” Jack smirked.

Bitty rolled his eyes. “I’m not  _that_  patriotic.”

“Not that I don’t like having you in my lap, but maybe you wanna sit next to me.” Jack patted the truck bed next to him. “Then you can see them better.”

“But if I sit here, then I can see their reflection in your eyes.”

“Bits…”

“All right, all right, you’re gonna blush yourself into a rose if I don’t get off of you. Or wait…” Bitty spun around so his back leaned against Jack’s chest, Jack’s chin resting on his shoulder. “There. Much better.”

The two of them passed the next hour that way, eating the rest of their maple pecan hand pies and watching completely illegal fireworks being shot off by reckless kids who didn’t know any better. Bitty didn’t even register what time it was by the time he and Jack slid back into the cab of the truck to go home, nor what time it was when he passed out in bed with Jack lying sprawled across his bed. If his parents had questions come morning, so be it. For tonight, his heart was explosively happy.


End file.
